But Mama I don’t want the wind
Once upon a time before the Darkness there was a spoiled heir to Sarinde. He was a gifted little boy in all things of tradition, pleasing his tutors both in martial arts and in the classics, knowing when to bow respectfully and when to act precocious.
But as he was sweet and gifted, cute and polite, he was also very used to having his way.
One day his birth-mother took him to the seaside. And it was a lovely day, with a shining sun glittering off the pebbles, with crowds of kinsfolk walking the boulevard, with all sorts of treats and amusements being sold.
“Mama, I want an icecream,” said the boy, and his mother bought him one.
“Mama, I want a balloon,” said the boy, and his mother bought him one.
“Mama, I want a scrunchie-on-a-stick”, said the boy, and his mother bought him one.
“Mama, I want to play beach ball,” said the boy, and his mother convinced some kinsfolk to include him in their game.
“Mama, I want to go swimming”, said the boy. Now, that day, the wind was high, and the sea was rough, and mother told him no.
“We cannot go swimming in this surf, we will surely drown.”
The boy begged and pleaded, but the mother was a sensible woman, and she kept her calm and kept on telling him no.
And so the boy had a meltdown on the beach side boulevard, and he bawled, “But Mama I do not want the wind!”
And all the kinsfolk who saw that, the icecream parlor owner and the balloon blower and the woman boiling the scrunchies-on-a-stick and the kinsmen playing ball, they all laughed at him.
And when he grew up and became the Chief of Sarinde and the enforcer of the law, whenever his head grew a tad too big, his Circle smiled at him and whispered “but I do not want the wind”, and he ground his teeth but controlled himself.
The wind is free and without bound. It cares not if you want it. It is what it is, and you adjust your plans to it, or you drown.